Chapter NINETEEN
Malone finished packing his bag. His flight left Heathrow in a little over three hours. The trial was finished and the terrorists convicted, each sentenced to life in prison. His two months in England were over. A light rap on his hotel room door disturbed the silence, and Stephanie Nelle entered. His boss had flown over a few days ago for the verdict.
“Ready to leave?” she asked.
“Been ready.”
“This was a tough one, wasn’t it?”
“You could say that. My faith in the good guys is beginning to wane.”
Everything he’d learned from and about Thomas Mathews still bothered him.
He folded the last of his shirts into the bag and zipped the lid shut.
In the weeks after the missile attack the press had been told precious little. The two Yourstones’ deaths were blamed on a robbery gone bad. Eleanor was saying nothing, playing the part of the grieving widow. And none of the royals would ever talk. The queen privately extracted a written declaration from her daughter renouncing all claims to the throne. There would be no repeats of regicide, or at least the effort would do her no good. Eleanor was allowed to keep her title, but no more royal duties. The official line was her desire to withdraw from public life and mourn her husband.
He laid his travel bag on the floor.
And not a word from the Secret Intelligence Service.
But he hadn’t expected any.
“William called,” Stephanie said. “The queen has asked us to come for a quick visit. She wants to say goodbye.”
He glanced at his watch.
“Let’s do it fast.”
He followed Stephanie through Buckingham Palace and into the audience hall. Victoria sat at the far side of the long chamber in her wheelchair, Albert standing beside her. William and Prince James stood off to the side. An array of ancient armor and weapons adorned the chamber, the finely carved, cream-colored walls resembling lace.
“Come in, Mr. Malone,” Victoria said.
Her pale voice resonated through the vast space, and she sounded upbeat.
He stepped toward her. “You’re looking well, Your Majesty.”
“I feel much better. My strength is returning. It is like a new day here.”
He was glad for her.
“I was wondering,” Victoria said, “if you might kneel.”
An odd request, but he could not refuse her.
“For service to this Crown, which included placing your life in jeopardy, I want to bestow upon you the title, knight of the realm.”
Albert stepped forward, holding a glistening silver sword, the scabbard afire with rubies and diamonds. He raised the blade and gently touched the tops of Malone’s shoulders.
“From this day forward,” the queen said, “you shall be known as Sir Harold Earl Malone, Protector of the Realm. This honor is granted by the Crown only to its loyal servants. And you sir, are my most loyal. You saved my grandson’s life. For that I, and this nation, owe you more than a mere knighthood.”
He was a bit overwhelmed. He hadn’t expected this. He stood. “I’m honored. Thank you.”
The queen smiled. “Ms. Nelle told me of your displeasure with commendations. She says you’ve refused quite a few. I decided to bestow one upon you that you could not refuse.”
“As I said yesterday, it would be hard to refuse so gracious a lady.”
Victoria chuckled. “Still the charmer.”
“I see you also learned my full given name. I’m not often called Harold Earl.”
“Ms. Nelle was kind enough to tell us. But I do wonder, where did the name Cotton come from?”
He smiled. “It’s a really long story.”
“Let’s agree then that, one day, you will return and tell me.”
“Absolutely. Might I ask, Your Majesty, what about Richard? What will happen to the succession?”
“My son has already signed his abdication. He will forfeit his right to the throne in favor of his son. That announcement will be made next week.”
Which further explained Mathews’ silence. The spymaster surely knew. And this was precisely what he wanted to happen.
“My advisers say the move will be greeted with much favor,” the queen said. “It will also diffuse the rumors of attempted regicide that the press, for some reason, cannot seem to abandon.” She reached up and grabbed her grandson’s hand. “Albert will marry within the year. His chosen one is a fine lady. She will make an excellent queen. The nation is in good hands.”
Malone studied the new heir apparent. The English monarchy did seem in good hands. He glanced over at Stephanie. He’d wanted to tell the queen about Mathews, revealing everything, but his boss had vetoed the idea.
Not our fight, she’d said.
“The grave site in Iceland has been fully mapped and the artifacts removed,” the queen said. “The manuscript you found is indeed a Gildas original, a lost volume that proves Arthur was real. We plan an announcement of the find next week to coincide with Richard’s abdication to Albert.”
He smiled at the irony. Victoria now planned to do what Yourstone and all of the other monarchs before her had tried and failed. Use Arthur to revitalize the throne. But she just might succeed. The timing was right. The people would greet the news of Arthur’s return, and Albert’s succession, with great joy.
Once a myth, now proven real.
Arthur.
The Celtic warrior.
Not a king. Just a leader of men, fighting for what he believed. A few lines from Tennyson came to mind. Applicable to a king lamenting about his death or a queen worried about the future of her realm.
If thou shouldst never see my face again, pray for my soul.
Which made him again think of Thomas Mathews. Whose soul he would not pray for. Stephanie had officially let MI6 know that what had happened would not be forgotten. But Mathews’ continued silence signaled no remorse. And Malone understood. This was the spy business. Not for the faint of heart.
But still—
One day, Sir Thomas, you’re going to push someone too far.
And maybe, just maybe, he’d be there to see it.
WRITER’S NOTE
This story postulates an alternate history. The current British royal family is called Windsor, but their true name is Saxe-Coburg, a name born in 1840 at the marriage between Victoria I and Albert Saxe-Coburg. The family label was changed (as detailed in chapter 4) during World War I to eliminate its German character. For the purposes of this story I omitted that modification. I did the same with the 1936 abdication of Edward VIII (chapter 6), instead implying a long reign and making him the father of my invented Victoria II. I chose to use a fictional royal family just as I’ve used a fictional American president in many of my thrillers.
The locales of St. Margaret’s Church (chapter 2), Buckingham Palace (chapters 2, 19), St. James Palace (chapter 6), the Tower of London (chapters 12, 13), and the Wellington Barracks (chapter 12) are accurately described. The silver vessel in chapters 3 and 7 is real, though slightly modified. This story takes place seven years in Cotton Malone’s past, so the Act of Succession quoted in chapter 4 is the one that existed prior to the recent change that now allows both male and female firstborns to inherit the throne.
The exploits of Arthur described in chapter 4 are from the legend, but the information about him being a Saxon warrior leader (chapters 7 and 9) is probably more accurate. The account of a dying Henry II (chapter 4) is based on a historical incident. Henry was the first English king to attempt to use Arthur as a way to revitalize the throne. Eliminating the monarchy is something constantly discussed throughout British history (chapters 2 and 8). It was actually accomplished in the 17th century when Cromwell briefly ruled. As detailed in chapters 2, 9, and 11, various kings have wanted to name their potential heirs Arthur, but death seemed always to interfere. The connection between Arthur’s grave and Glastonbury abbey exists (chapters 7 and 9), and currently a marker stands at Glastonbury noting its supposed location.
History of the Kings of Britain by Geoffrey of Monmouth (chapter 9), Navigatio Sancti Brendani Abbatis by St. Brendan (chapter 9), the Landanámabók (chapter 9), and On the Ruin and Conquest of Britain by Gildas (chapter 16) are actual manuscripts. The addition of specific references to Arthur in the Gildas work was my invention, though those accounts were based on historical references.
The Celtic settlement of Iceland in the 6th century happened, so it seemed a natural choice to hide Arthur’s true resting place there. The tomb, as described in chapters 14 and 16 is based on an actual grave site exhumed in the 1990s.
Of all the kings and queens who ruled England, only Arthur became a legend. But, most likely, he was not a king. Just a leader of men, fighting for what he believed in. When thinking of him, a line from Tennyson’s Idylls of the King always comes to mind—a tribute to Arthur, but it is also the theme of this story—“The old order changeth, yielding place to new.”
About the Author
Steve Berry is the #1 internationally and New York Times bestselling author of The Jefferson Key, The Emperor’s Tomb, The Paris Vendetta, The Charlemagne Pursuit, The Venetian Betrayal, The Alexandria Link, The Templar Legacy, The Third Secret, The Romanov Prophecy, The Amber Room, and the short stories “The Admiral’s Mark,” “The Balkan Escape,” and “The Devil’s Gold.” His books have been translated into forty languages and sold in fifty-one countries. He lives in the historic city of St. Augustine, Florida. He and his wife, Elizabeth, have founded History Matters, a nonprofit organization dedicated to preserving our heritage. To learn more about Steve Berry and the foundation, visit www.steveberry.org.